Day 1

A UW van in Wallace Hall parking lot was overstuffed with eager students, a very enthusiastic professor, large backpacks, and boxes of supplies.  None knew exactly what to expect out the trip and this uncertainty created an atmosphere rich with curiosity.  We were all strangers to each other (except for our professor who had taught many of us in previous courses) and many of us were strangers to this type of experience.  The team consisted of eight students exactly half male and female and one male professor who was to be our teacher and guide.  The ladies were named Mary, Alison, Julia, and Sarah.  The guys were Carter, Caleb, Anren, and myself (Alex.)  Our fearless leader was named Tim Billo.  We introduced ourselves briefly and drove to the Edmonds ferry that would carry us to the Olympic Peninsula.  Our destination was deep inside the park and we had a long journey ahead of us.

While on the ferry, Tim gave us an introduction to the course and a brief historical background of the area.  The skies were clear and blue; visibility was excellent.  To the East the mainland slowly receded away from us as we headed West to the Olympic Peninsula.  A feeling of adventure builds increasingly within me, as I stare out at Puget Sound and the approaching peninsula.  The mainland represents civilization to me and the Peninsula a rugged frontier wilderness.  The irony of this is not lost on me because the mainland was once a wilderness too.

The Olympics from Puget Sound

The Olympic Peninsula is much different than the mainland.  Even civilization has a different pace out here.  The towns are small.  There are no skyscrapers or high rise apartment complexes.  The businesses are small in the town centers but sadly these are being pushed by corporate big business on the outskirts of the city.  These towns have a frontier feel to them.  They simple with modest houses.  They warmly remind me of small towns in my home state of Texas.  The communities here are mainly outdoor communities; the majority of jobs involve forestry and park service.  These towns are dependent on the health of the logging industry.  The loggers are enduring a slump period.  Potential park expansion has created stress among these communities.  They fear even further economic regression and rightfully so; humanity has suffered global economic recessions with symptoms that have affected everyone.  But I cannot help but feel divided about the loggers.  At first, I feel no real pity for the loggers.  It seems to me that their inconsistent work situation is the result of poor management and greed.  However, I also can empathize with the loggers because regardless of how their situation occurred it is a circumstance that is difficult for anyone.

Driving into Olympic National Park we passed the so called “working forests.”  The forest had an almost artificial aesthetic.  The trees were clearly grid plotted and they had uniform growth stages.  The forests were practically all Douglas Fir trees with only one uniform canopy and no undergrowth.  It is clear that these forests make poor substitutes for the real thing. Then we reached the clear cuts.  The carnage was expansive; hundreds of stumps dotted the hillside for several miles.  Small isolated patches or islands of trees were sprinkled throughout the clear cut zone.  Professor Billo explained these islands as a new forestry technique that is attempting to accommodate animal migrations.  In theory, these islands would function as havens for animals as they cross the clear cuts.  Whether or not this technique is effective remains to be known, however, it seems doubtful to me.  These islands are very small (on average only a dozen trees per patch) and have virtually no undergrowth.  By my estimation, animals would still be exposed. 

There is a sign that signifies the entrance to the state park but it is unnecessary.  The juxtaposition between the park forest and the clear cut section is extreme; the trees are butchered right up to the park boundary.  The border is unmistakable.  The shotgun-ravaged sign symbolizes the unstable relationship between the park and its immediate neighbors.      

The park immediately consumes you in dense vegetation.  We drove up a few miles and then disembarked to prepare for our journey.  We established cooking teams in groups of three and I was placed in a group with Alison and Julia whom I came to know fondly over the next seven days.  The group also paired into tent mates and I decided to bunk Tan Anren (Asian culture puts last name first.)  The cook groups stuffed our bear canisters full and begrudgingly shouldered our packs.  Despite the heavy load my legs were eager to hit the backcountry after so much anticipation.  The Grey Wolf trail descended through a burn area which was the aftermath of a powerful forest fire in the 1980’s.  The charred snags had a solemn appearance; their charred trunks resembled stone statues.  The views during this descent were panoramic and incredible.

Charred trees with the Olympic Range in the background

At this point I must concede that I cannot give this land a fair description; how truly remarkable this park is far exceeds my ability to write.  Pictures will have to do but these still do not suffice.   The eyes, nose, ears, and skin experience a symphony of stimulation the like of which is unique only to this magnificent land.  There is far more for the senses than visuals; words alone cannot hope to describe these intangibles.One must experience this place to understand.

Part of the Olympic Range

We arrived at our first campsite called Three Forks and made camp.  My tent mate Anren made cheap jokes of our tent building and general tent affairs.  For example, after securing our rain fly he commented, “Now our tent is so fly!”  This would become a daily occurrence throughout the trip, which I never minded.

We had a good discussion lead by Sarah that focused on the benefits and negatives of human presence in wildlife preserves and whether or not these preserves are sufficient for wildlife health.  The opinions were divided but generally we all agreed that preserves do an incredible amount of good and are arguably the best thing humanity has done for its organic siblings.  Still, we all agreed that they are not enough to ensure healthy preservation.  Some argued that humans have no business in these places We have claimed well over 90% of the world as ours to develop so I can understand why some may feel that wildlife should have a right to lands to call their own.  But I disagree.  Polluting, disrespectful humans have no place here but nature friendly groups certainly do.  We are animals too.  Additionally, I think that if people come and see the value of the other small percent they may increase that smaller percentage.  Who knows I can only hope for the best. 

I started The Call of the Wild by Jack London before crashing and it was hard to stop.  I brought the book because I thought it would be an excellent companion for this trip and I was not disappointed.